Ok, so for about the past like 8 years I’ve had this agreement with myself that I wouldn’t live past the age of 45, unless I had a reason. Say like kids that still needed my attention. And this doesn’t come from some sick place in my head where I have this urge to die and I’m gonna kill myself at any minute. It comes from a place where I don’t want to become a burden upon the people I love with convalescent hospitals and medical treatments. Yes, I understand that 45 isn’t that old, but instead of going through a mid-life crisis and buying a sports car to regain my youth, I just figure that by that age I should have had a pretty good life and should go out on a high note. In order to go out on the high note the thing I’ve always joked about doing is getting a hooker, doing a giant line of coke down her entire spine and fucking until I OD and die. I would take all the proper legal precautions first, like abstaining her from any criminal prosecution and making sure all my money goes to the proper people. I don’t want some elaborate funeral, just burn me and toss me to the wind while “One” by Metallica plays me off. Then I want everyone to go to whatever bar they want and have a drink to me. Over and done with. I may seem morbid to plan out my own death but I see it as being very freeing, instead of the constant worry of when the reaper will come knocking I will be kicking down his door to party.